At the beginning of “Pedestrian Access as a Measure of Urban Quality,” a discussion of walkability, Emily Talen notes that while some forms of urban planning “seem to agree that urban areas ought to strive for greater pedestrian access,” such access “is not formally evaluated in the context of local planning practice” (257). The purpose of this paper, she continues, is to offer “an empirical and methodological contribution to such an evaluation. It answers the question: since increasing pedestrian access to goods and services is a major objective of the current call for compact, walkable, pedestrian-oriented urban environments, how walkable are our urban environments?” (257). “The goal of this study,” she continues, “is to demonstrate how access”—I think she means pedestrian access—“can be given a more prominent role in planning practice” (257). Talen’s focus is on Portland, Oregon, a city that “does not evaluate pedestrian access in its regular planning activities” (257).
According to Talen, assessing “the quality of a given urban environment” can be done “either subjectively or objectively, using data that are quantitative, qualitative, or a combination of both” (258). Subjective assessments use “survey-based research on residential preferences” or “cognitive mapping exercises” that contribute to an understanding of place from the perspective of residents, “although the methods employed are not necessarily designed to be applied to planning practices” (258). Objective measures, which are usually quantitative, “are critically important for planners,” and the literature is filled with such approaches. “However, the usefulness of these indicators working at the local, neighbourhood level is limited,” Talen writes, because “many indicators involve too coarse a resolution to be useful for local comparative planning analysis” (258). Because assessments of urban quality “need to be localized in a meaningful way,” their focus needs to be on distinguishing between neighbourhoods in a city, rather than between cities (as a form or ranking or comparison) (258). In addition, most indicators “do not readily accommodate evaluations of urban pattern or form” (258). “For example, although it is possible to compare urban neighbourhoods on the basis of poverty, employment and income, it is usually not possible to compare neighbourhoods on the basis of their spatial pattern, walkability or morphological character, qualities that urban planners are likely to be involved with,” Talen writes (258). She notes that INDEX software, which uses GIS technology, “produces maps that analyze the pedestrian qualities of an area,” including blocks that are too large, intersections with poor safety records, disconnected sidewalks, or areas far from bus stops (259). The way that people travel could be factored into such analyses (259). One example, according to Talen, is the Bradshaw Walkability Index, “which uses criteria such as density, off-street parking places, ‘sitting spots,’ and sidewalk ‘dips’ at each driveway to measure the walkability of an area” (259). While these approaches are important, they have not been widely used because they require a lot of data about the cityscape (259). Talen proposes “citywide evaluation of access as a function of distance”; she hopes that this approach will supplement GIS-based approaches “and demonstrate the importance of pedestrian access as an urban quality indicator” (259)
“Access is often formally defined as the quality of having interaction with, or passage to, a particular good[,] service or facility,” Talen writes (259). However, the criteria that define this access are complex. “If the purpose of analysis is to predict travel behaviour or to predict and measure behavioural changes resulting from different urban patterns,” she writes, “then measures of individual access that incorporate complexity are warranted” (259). However, measurements can become too complex to be used, “when in reality simplified versions can be equally valid and useful” (260). The measure of access she proposes in this paper is “very straightforward”: “Access is defined as the ability to reach a given destination based on geographic distance,” so that “locations that have facilities close by are said to have better access than locations that have facilities far away” (260). This measurement appears to be about density: dense neighbourhoods will, according to this metric, be more walkable.
Talen suggests, though, that this view of access is “normative,” because it relies “on a specific judgment about what ought to occur” (260). In these “normative views of what the urban pattern ‘ought’ to be like, access based on geographic distance is vital,” she states (260). Distance-focused analyses, she contends, “might address the question of whether access to a particular good is discriminatory”: people who don’t drive—the elderly or the poor—may not find urban services to be accessible, “because distance is not elastic” (261). Despite the problems involved in quantifying distance, Talen argues that it’s still important to use numbers to compare whether one area of a city might have better access to goods and services than another (261). Thus, she suggests, it is “possible to legitimise the use of quantified measures in the evaluation of urban quality by emphasising flexibility in approach, exploration and visualisation of data, and continually bearing in mind the limitations involved in quantified approaches” (261).
Talen argues that five groups of factors affect “the measure of access” (261). “The first two are simply the spatial locations of points of origin and points of destination,” she writes. Usually points of origin refer to housing, while points of destination refer to schools or places of employment (261). Talen is clearly seeing walking as a mode of functional transportation rather than a leisure activity. “The third factor is the travel route and the distance between origin(s) and destination(s),” she continues. This factor involves distance and “the qualities of the route,” including topography, design speed, the number of lanes of traffic, and “mode,” which I think means the way people move through space—by walking, for example (262). The fourth factor “has to do with the attributes of the individuals who seek access,” including socioeconomic status, age, gender, and employment status. “Certain assumptions can be made about the attractiveness or relevance of travel to certain facilities (and the likely mode of travel) based on these characteristics,” she writes (262). Finally, “the amount, type and quality of a given destination,” particularly its attractiveness, creates another group of factors (262).
The most important kinds of data necessary are origins, destinations, and the routes between them (262). If those data are available, “the measurement of access can be easily accomplished,” simply by computing distances and determining “a measure of access for each origin that can appropriately be used as an urban quality indicator” (262). Talen describes GIS software that can be used to do this work (262). That software can calculate distance and, apparently, the number of “urban opportunities” that are within walking distance (263). I’m not sure how that works, but measuring “urban opportunities” is a way of measuring the density of texture and experience in a given urban environment: the more dense and textured the environment, the more pleasant it will be for pedestrians. If that’s Talen’s point, I would agree, because that’s been my experience of walking in urban areas.
Talen’s case study relies on three principles. First, cities “should be designed to accommodate a variety of transportation modes—walking, biking, private automobiles and public transit” (263). Second, pedestrian access “is a separate, vital dimension of urban quality” (263). Finally, access “should be evaluated for a variety of urban opportunities,” including schools and parks (263). “Since the distance to the nearest facility is the central, most meaningful element—the minimum distance between residential location and urban amenity—the ‘minimum-distance’ measurement approach is used” in her analysis (263). “Planners can accomplish this kind of evaluation by looking at just two aspects of access: the ability to reach urban places, and the quantity and attributes of places that can be reached,” she writes. “Together, these two aspects of access provide a powerful indicator of urban spatial pattern and its quality” (263).
Talen used data from Portland, Oregon’s regional planning organization (263-64). She suggests that “the walking distance parameter is usually defined as 1/4 mile”—that’s the maximum distance pedestrians will find walkable, it seems—although people will be willing to walk farther in some cases (264-66). She used GIS and “the visualisation of quantitative data” to make conclusions about “how access varies across the urban landscape” (266).
She begins by summarizing the number of “residential parcels”—lots? developments?—“that are within 1/4 mile of an elementary school or a neighbourhood park” (266). Not many “single-family parcels”—houses, then—or “multi-family parcels”—apartment buildings—are that close to either a park or a school in Portland. These results, Talen writes, “are significant since they verify that a large majority of residents in Portland are lacking pedestrian access to essential public facilities,” with only 10 percent of apartment buildings being within walking distance—defined as a 1/4 mile—of an elementary school (266-67).
Talen then introduces the socioeconomic characteristics of areas associated with more or less access to facilities (267). She uses the tax valuations of single-family properties as her metric of the residents’ socioeconomic characteristics. Surprisingly, she finds little difference between access to facilities for properties with higher or lower assessed values (272). I find that hard to believe, but that is the result she discovered.
“The fact that only 12% of the residential parcels in the city of Portland are within walking distance of either a neighbourhood park or an elementary school gives some indication that the oft-cited planning goal of increasing neighbourhood-level (i.e. pedestrian) access to parks and schools in not within easy reach,” Talen concludes. “Pedestrian access to parks and schools is generally regarded as an essential building block of quality urban environments,” yet her case study demonstrates that “even in a ‘Smart Growth’ city like Portland, walking to a school or park is restricted to relatively few selected areas and populations” (274-75). However, “the distribution of parks and schools in Portland tends to favour areas with lower housing values, higher percentages of minorities, higher levels of unoccupied housing, and similar characteristics of socioeconomic status, which can be interpreted as a positive phenomenon since these are likely to be the areas in greatest need of access to public amenities” (275).
The reason that pedestrian access is so poor, Talen notes, is that American cities are designed for cars, not for pedestrians (275). She notes that large regional parks are not available to pedestrians, and acknowledges that “the relationship between access to schools and the location of children” is not accounted for in a direct way by her study (275). Despite those flaws, Talen suggests that her work is useful in understanding “the direction in which urban form ought to be going” (275). That “optimal form” tends to emphasize pedestrian access, such as Smart Growth, sustainable development, or New Urbanism: “The idea of concentrating rather than dispersing facilities, clustering housing and mixing land-use types, is essentially about increasing access, most importantly, pedestrian access” (275). A lack of access is something to be fixed, and urban planners “should seek to remove impediments that separate people form the amenities and services they require” (275). To do that, planners need to be able to evaluate, plan for, and promote accessibility (276). “The application of standards is just one way to evaluate pedestrian access,” she concludes. “How well a city performs in terms of walking access could also be evaluated over time . . . as well as by region” (276). She hopes that “some progress can be made in advancing urban quality by engaging in a more rigorous measurement of pedestrian access” (276).
I’m not sure what to make of Talen’s article. She seems to be convinced that she’s found a key quantitative metric for walkability in the 1/4 mile distance between houses and elementary schools or parks. But the Harbour Landing development in southwest Regina would likely score well on that metric—at least as far as parks are concerned—even though I’m not convinced that it’s a walkable place at all. That’s because it’s separated from the rest of the city by six lanes of fast traffic and crosswalks that give pedestrians little time to get from one side of that highway to the other. To claim that neighbourhood is walkable would be to suggest that people living there will only shop at the Wal-Mart that’s a quarter of a mile from their house, or that they will only visit the restaurants near that Wal-Mart. It ignores the vast deserts of pavement—parking lots—that separate stores and restaurants from each other in the neighbourhood’s retail developments. It also ignores the lack of crosswalks for pedestrians. Who wants to walk in such bleak surroundings, which are so unfriendly to pedestrians, even for short distances? What about the quality of the parks in that development, where there are few trees or other amenities (like benches)? On paper, Talen’s methodology might give Harbour Landing a high walkability score, but anyone condemned to walking there might have a very different response to the question of the area’s walkability. Planners might only be able to understand quantitative measurements, but perhaps qualitative measurements are just as important. Would it be too much to ask planners to spend time walking in neighbourhoods as part of their practice? Might that not yield important insights about walkability? If nothing else, an urban planner in this city (I’m assuming we have people who do that work) who has to run across Lewvan Drive because the crosswalk gives pedestrians little time to get across might lobby his or her colleagues in the traffic department to give pedestrians another 10 or 20 seconds before the red hand starts flashing. More importantly, for me, is the question of how such neighbourhoods contribute to or prevent the development of a culture of walking, a culture in which walking is not eccentric but is part of daily life. If it’s easier to drive everywhere in such neighbourhoods, and if driving appears to be safer than walking and more pleasant, then wouldn’t they be contributing to a culture of driving, rather than walking? And isn’t culture the key element, the thing that studies like Talen’s leave out?
Work Cited
Talen, Emily. “Pedestrian Access as a Measure of Urban Quality.” Planning Practice and Research, vol. 17, no. 3, 2002, pp. 257-78. DOI:10.1080/026974502200005634.